


The Unexpected Adventures of Ferdinand von Aegir & Petra Macneary

by Alexander_L



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Family Issues, Ferdinand Week 2021, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_L/pseuds/Alexander_L
Summary: When a sheltered and nervous 15-year-old Ferdinand comes to Enbarr for the first time, he meets Petra and forms a friendship that will last a lifetime and bring him unexpected joy and comfort throughout the dark days to come.Written for Ferdinand Week 2021.Each chapter is a oneshot taking place in a different era: pre-canon, academy phase, during the timeskip, war phase, and post-canon.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir & Petra Macneary, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra (Background), Petra Macneary/Dorothea Arnault (background)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 58





	1. The Albinean Appaloosa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand makes his first friend in Enbarr, much to his father's disapproval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 prompt: Horses!

“Ferdinand!” his father snapped. “Stop fidgeting!”

Sitting up straight, Ferdinand did his best to keep stock-still in the rumbling carriage as it bumped over cobblestones and lurched to stops occasionally for traffic. Through a gap in the curtains he could see tiny flashes of the capitol city and his stomach twisted nervously. It looked so very crowded and large. 

Ferdinand was used to feeling small. He knew he was not as tall as the other boys his age, nor as broad-shouldered. And even though his father was not an intimidating man by any standard, he had spent fifteen long years feeling reduced to insignificance before him. Yet somehow in this huge noisy city full of important people and important places he felt smaller still, like an awkward wobble-kneed colt blinking in its first glimpse of sunlight.

His hand strayed to the pocket of his coat where he had hidden away the small figurine the gardener Silas had carved for him from a scrap of wood, fashioned in the likeness of his childhood pony that had died that spring.

“What are you fiddling with?” Duke Aegir asked. He swiped at the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief and Ferdinand tensed in preparation for a tirade. His father hated the heat. The overbearing midsummer sun here in the south would vex him to a state of irritability greater than his usual strained temperament.

Ferdinand knew he should lie but he also knew he was not good enough at it to get away with it. He withdrew the pony from his pocket guiltily. 

“A toy?” his father said in disbelief. “Give me that.”

Clenching his teeth angrily, Ferdinand held it out and his father snatched it from his hand.

“You are a decade too old for child’s nonsense like this! What mortification would it have been if someone had seen you – a grown man and _my_ heir – carrying around a toy like this! Are you an imbecile?” 

His father cast it to the floor where it rattled around by their feet and where Ferdinand knew better than to retrieve it.

“Oh thank the saints. We are here,” the duke grumbled as their carriage rolled to a stop outside the doors of the palace. He looked Ferdinand up and down quickly. “Straighten your ascot and roll down your sleeves. You are not in the country anymore.”

Ferdinand obeyed and combed through his hair with his fingers for good measure. Swallowing nervously, he climbed out of the carriage after his father and took in the sight of the palace of Enbarr, trying very hard not to gawk. After all, he was nobility. Nobility did not gawk at finery. 

And yet the Emperor’s palace put even the ornateness of Aegir Manor to shame. Aegir Manor was a newer house, rebuilt after the original structure had been torn down to its foundation by his father to be resurrected with more grandeur than the humble villa that had originally existed. But none of its gilded accents or marble pillars could compare to this, for the palace held a sense of ancientness to it that inspired reverence. The elegance and simplicity of its architecture seemed to be a statement that it had nothing to prove, for its power lay in more than wealth and its splendor in its strength that neither the wear of time and ravages of man could diminish.

The palace of Enbarr had stood for a thousand years, the seat of the oldest dynasty in Fódlan, and even Duke Aegir could not stride as boldly or talk as loudly within its walls as he did elsewhere.

“Do not embarrass me, boy,” the duke hissed as Ferdinand followed him through the courtyard and into the huge foyer of the palace.

Ferdinand wondered if it was even possible to not. He felt extremely out of his element. The prospect of spending two years here in Enbarr with the same tutors that trained the crown princess and the watchful and scrutinizing eyes of a thousand courtiers, guards and servants daunted him. But he had to learn. He had to prepare for Garreg Mach. If he could not learn to flourish in this environment he would never be able to take his father’s place as Prime Minister.

He squared his posture, paid attention to the elegance and confidence of his steps, and arranged his expression into a serious look. 

He did not embarrass himself as he was presented to the emperor. He did not embarrass himself as he knelt before the Hresvelg heir and withstood the piercing gaze of her Vestra retainer. And he did not embarrass himself as he toured the palace, listened attentively to every piece of information rattled off to him, and meticulously memorized each name and face of every single person he met from lords to footmen.

By the time he was finally allowed to retreat to the privacy of his new chambers, he heaved a sigh of relief and his dignified expression broke free into a smile.

“I did it,” he breathed, sinking down into an armchair and rubbing his aching forehead. 

A knock on the door made him jump back to his feet and wipe the stupid grin from his face. “Come in,” he said.

To his relief it was only a maid that entered, carrying a tray of tea. She curtsied to him and he tucked his arm behind his back and gave her a short bow of respect. 

She laughed. “Well, I’ve never been bowed to before. What fine manners.” A teasing sparkle crept into her eyes as she added, “And here I was told that country nobles were less refined than city ones.”

He could not help but smile at both her praise and her mocking. “I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he replied. “If courtiers are not trained to treat every person they meet with respect, then I will have to educate them on good country manners.”

The woman laughed. “There you go. Now you sound more like a noble. You must learn to bluster more and smile less if you expect to fit in here.” She set down the tray and poured the tea into a cup. “I brought you a pot of chamomile since I imagine it has been a trying day for you, but if you tell me what teas you prefer, I will make note of it and serve you them instead in the future.”

“Thank you. Chamomile is perfectly alright,” he replied. “But I would not say no to a good cup of Almyran Pine.” He took the cup and asked, “And what is your name, miss?”

“I’m Delle. I’ll be your chamber maid. If you need anything, just ring and I’ll pop on by.”

“I require nothing at the moment but may I ask you a question?”

“Depends on the question,” she said.

“I hear the palace stables are very magnificent but they were not included in my tour. Do you think-” Ferdinand paused and considered for a moment how untoward it would be to ask etiquette advice from a servant. But his curiosity overcome his pride and he said, “Would it be possible for me to see them? Perhaps I could just go on my own now so I need not trouble anyone to show me them?”

“So you can explore without an entourage of judging eyes, eh?” she replied.

Ferdinand nodded self-consciously.

Delle smiled. “I think that can be managed. I can give you directions and guard your door like a watchdog for you, telling anyone who comes to find you that you are asleep and not to be disturbed.”

“No, I cannot ask you to lie on my behalf. That would be immoral.”

“Morals, huh? Wow, you definitely have a lot to learn about life in Enbarr,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no trouble, and it would make me happy to do something nice for you.”

“I will repay your kindness,” he promised. Draining the cup of tea hastily, he changed his formal coat for a lightweight jacket and switched his polished white heeled boots for a simpler pair of leather riding boots. 

His heart thrilled with excitement and anxiety as he snuck from his room minutes later towards the back door of the palace wing where he could escape into the gardens and make his way to the stables on their outskirts. To his delight, it was not a long walk and he made it without being remarked upon.

The days were long this time of year and although it was past eight o’clock in the evening, the sunlight was still warm and twilight was only the faintest hint lingering on the edges of the sky. As he entered through a small door in the back of the stable and stepped into the building, he smiled in rapture at the beautiful place. 

Golden shafts of light streamed in from the windows and filled the stable with glittering motes of dust that rose and vanished into the shadows of the high-vaulted ceilings. It was rich with the soothingly familiar smell of hay and horses and the rich aroma of high-quality alfalfa. 

Once he realized that the stablehands neither cared nor commented on his presence, Ferdinand walked out into the aisle and wandered past the rows and rows of luxurious stalls in which dwelled some of the finest creatures he had ever seen.

Most of the breeds he had seen in horse fairs and jousting tournaments and he delighted in the opportunity to take a closer look at them, reaching out to stroke their muzzles and whisper greetings to them. In the corner of an aisle though he at last came upon a horse whose breed he had only seen pictures of in books. 

“An Albinean Appaloosa!” he said and the horse lifted its head at the sound of his voice and regarded him with gentle eyes. “An honor to make your acquaintance-” He glanced at the ornate nameplate on the stall door. “-Lily of the Valley.”

The mare snorted at the sound of her name and stepped closer to the stall door. With a grin, Ferdinand reached up to pet her forehead. “You are very silky,” he told her. “Not at all like our bearded Fódlan horses. How elegant you look!”

She did not seem affected by his flattery but neither was she unfriendly, just a little reserved.

Standing up on his tiptoes, Ferdinand leaned over the stall door to pet her sleek mane but he froze with a startled gasp as he caught sight of a girl sitting on a hay bale in the back of the stall, her knees tucked up to her chest, watching him with violet eyes wide in alarm.

Ferdinand fumbled for words for a moment then said, “My apologies. I did not mean to intrude. I did not see you there.”

The girl stared at him for a long moment without replying and Ferdinand studied her curiously. She looked to be a year or two younger than himself and he would have assumed she was a servant girl given the circumstances in which he found her, but it was very apparent upon further inspection that she was anything but. She was dressed in clothes that although simple in their design were perfectly tailored and of fine material that spoke of wealth and status. And there was a presence to her unflinching gaze that would have been insolent in a commoner but perfectly befitting of royalty.

Ferdinand nodded his head respectfully. “I am Ferdinand von Aegir, son of Duke Ludwig von Aegir,” he said. “May I ask who you are, my lady?”

“I am Petra Macneary, granddaughter to the King of Brigid,” she said, each word spoken carefully but articulately. 

“An honor to meet you, Princess Macneary,” he said. “Is this your horse? She is a magnificent creature.”

Petra’s cautious expression eased into a small smile. She got up from her perch on the hay bale and walked over to stand beside the mare, petting her neck. “Yes.”

Ferdinand stepped back and gave the horse a short bow. “Forgive my previous familiarity, Lily of the Valley. I was unaware that you were the steed of royalty, although I should have guessed as much.”

A giggle caused him to glance over at Petra and he blushed a bit at the amusement in her eyes.

“I will not disturb your privacy further. Good day, my lady,” Ferdinand said, turning away.

“Should you-” Petra instantly corrected herself. “ _Would_ you like to be going for a ride with me?” 

Ferdinand turned back to her and shifted on his feet nervously. “That would be rather improper, would it not?”

“How?” she asked.

“You are… I am…” He cleared his throat. “It is rather late and to be honest, I am not supposed to be here.”

She grinned. “Then we will be riding fast so no one will see you.”

Ferdinand hesitated, glancing around the stable. He had been here in Enbarr for half a day and already the ache of homesickness was so strong he feared he might be ill. He thought of his evening rides through the rolling hills and farmlands with longing, knowing that he would not see those hills for quite some time.

“I left my horse behind in Aegir,” he said, although he knew not why he gave voice to the thought. “His name was Augustus. He was the best horse I have ever known but a Hrym Highlander is not a proper steed for a noble I was told.”

“Lily will be a friend to you,” Petra offered, opening up the stall door. “So you are not feeling pain missing Augustus.”

Her kindness moved him and he smiled shyly at her. “I would be honored to be her friend, and yours, my lady.”

“Petra,” she said. “I am not-” She paused, struggling for words. “I am a lady, but I am not a _my lady_ lady.”

Ferdinand was not sure what exactly she was trying to say but he took it to mean that she was not fond of formalities and he decided to respect her wishes and call her by her first name.

Grabbing hold of Lily’s mane, Petra climbed gracefully up onto her back without the aid of stirrups. She held out her hand to Ferdinand and he looked up at her dismay.

“Should I not get a saddle?” he asked.

Petra pointed at a simple bridle hanging on a hook in the stall and Ferdinand retrieved it, buckling it onto Lily and handing the reins to Petra.

“Are you needing a saddle?” she said and Ferdinand heard the challenge in her tone.

“No,” he lied and scrambled up onto Lily’s back with far less grace than he would have preferred. “Perhaps I should get my own horse,” he suggested.

“There are none like Lily,” she replied firmly. “None can be keeping up with her.”

Before Ferdinand could second-guess himself further, he was forced to grab onto Petra for dear life as she spurred Lily into a sudden trot. Ferdinand had ridden bareback before but only infrequently and had never mastered the balance of it. Petra however looked perfectly at ease, her slight but muscular body possessing all the strength and poise necessary.

Although he knew it was highly improper, bordering upon the scandalous, to cling to her, Ferdinand had no choice but to do so as they broke free of the stable and Petra nudged Lily into a full canter, racing through the courtyard and out into the riding paths winding through the parks and gardens surrounding the palace.

He must have spent more time wandering mesmerized through the stables than he realized for the sunset had given way to the shroud of dusk and Ferdinand hoped it was dim enough that it would be difficult to recognize him if he were spotted. 

Petra gave him instructions on how to balance his posture and grip with his knees so that he could stay on the mare’s back without the aid of the saddle and Ferdinand followed them diligently until he began to feel more at ease and could release his death grip on Peta at last.

“I am so sorry,” he said. 

“You say those words too much,” she said.

Ferdinand opened his mouth to apologize for this apparently annoying trait of his then stopped himself just in time.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Where we like,” she answered.

Although he could not see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice and it made him smile as well.

The stir of wind in his hair, the excitement of the ride and the comfort of his escape from the palace was so strong an enchantment that for a while he forgot all about the things he should have been preoccupied with and he stopped listening to his father’s voice berating him in his head for such shocking behavior.

He envied Petra’s free spirit at the time, her unhesitating pursuit of joy without being confined by the anxieties that dogged Ferdinand’s every action. He did not see the loneliness that made her jump at the chance to spend time with someone who would talk to her, stranger though he was. He had no idea until she told him many months later that this one hour of freedom had been a rare thing she had clung to for quite some time the same as he did.

He thought it was simply her way to be so friendly and awareness of the sorrow that underlay it did not cross his mind to overshadow the happiness of the moment.

“There,” she said triumphantly as they trotted back into the stable. “We were unstoppable.”

He laughed and swung down from Lily’s back, stretching his sore legs. “Indeed.”

It was dark outside and Ferdinand knew he could no longer risk staying here but before he turned away he hesitated. “Will I see you again sometime? I would like to go for another ride.”

Petra smiled. “I would be liking that greatly.”

“Then I will bid you goodnight for now,” he said and gave her another bow that she laughed quietly at. 

“Good night, Ferdinand von Aegir,” she replied.

He smiled as he slipped back to his chamber in the palace and Delle looked pleased when she saw him. “Did that lift your spirits?” she asked. “You look downright happy.”

“The stables are extraordinary,” he said.

She laughed. “Country boy.”

“Goodnight, madam,” he said, sweeping her a bow that made her shake her head and _tsk_ at him.

“Almyran Pine in the morning, then?” she said.

“Thank you.”

“You got it, kid. Goodnight.”

That night, Ferdinand slept better than he usually did in an unfamiliar room and he awakened with far more hope in his heart than he had the day before, hope that was swiftly shattered into alarm by the pounding knock on his door.

“Are you awake, boy?”

“Yes,” he said, scrambling out of bed and hastily dressing.

His father strode into his room with a thunderous expression and before Ferdinand could even try to guess what was the matter, his father cut straight to the heart of Ferdinand’s fears. “What is this I hear about you gallivanting around with the Brigid princess?”

The word _gallivanting_ offended him but he decided to address the matter differently in what he hoped would be a smart defense.

“You have told me that my purpose here is to form connections,” he said. “I have been here less than a day and made an ally of royalty.”

“Royalty,” his father scoffed. “You really are ignorant. Do you not understand that power and titles are not the same thing? That girl has nothing to offer you. She is far more likely to be a liability than a productive connection. The only power Brigid has is what Adrestria allows it. You might as well have wasted your time befriending wastrels in the common jail, for that girl is but a prisoner here and can do nothing for you except bring question upon your loyalties. Do I make myself clear? You are not to associate with her more than is necessary.”

Ferdinand bristled and for once he did not avert his eyes from his father’s overbearing gaze.

“I refuse to share your opinion that the only merit of a friendship is its political productivity. I will extend the same respect to Petra Macneary that I do to Edelgard von Hresvelg, for that is the kind of man I wish to be and I believe that that kind of man has the potential to be far more powerful than one who only views people through the lens of what they can offer him.”

He was unused to standing up to his father and as soon as his brave little speech left his lips and stunned silence followed it, he regretted it. He waited with held breath for his father’s anger but right as the duke opened his mouth to unleash his chastisement, another knock on the door came and stopped him.

His father nodded at the door and Ferdinand walked over to it with his heart pounding and jaw clenched and opened it. Before him stood Edelgard’s stern shadow Hubert von Vestra.

“Her highness requests your presence at breakfast,” he said flatly. “Do not keep her waiting.”

He did not have to ask Ferdinand twice. Yanking on his fancy jacket, Ferdinand all but fled his chambers and the thwarted fury of his father. Even the unsettling presence of the grim young man beside him was preferable to experiencing his moment of courage crumbling in the face of his father’s disapproval.

“If I am to join the princess in some of her lessons then we shall be seeing a deal of each other from now on, Hubert,” he said and saw the way the boy stiffened at his friendly tone. “I hear she is very accomplished with the axe and sword. Do you train with her or do you prefer different weapons?”

“A weapon can be taken from you,” Hubert replied. “Magic cannot.”

“So you are a mage?” Ferdinand said, impressed. “Can you aid me in learning spells? I have not had a master of reason magic to instruct me. I would love to learn how to cast spells.”

“I believe that is what textbooks are for,” Hubert said quietly and ceased to respond to any further comment or question from Ferdinand.

Breakfast was a pleasant but somewhat strained affair and Ferdinand’s mind drifted often to his words with his father that morning. As soon as he was dismissed from the princess’s company, he made his way as discreetly as possible through the palace grounds until he at last came upon the carriage house. Looking warily over his shoulder, he ducked into it and searched until he found the Aegir carriage.

Yanking open the door, he climbed up into it and got down on his knees, searching around the floor of it until his hands finally clasped around the figure of the pony. Tucking it safely in his pocket, he fled from the carriage house and returned to the palace.

He did not see Petra for several days, for her life was very removed from that of Edelgard and Hubert’s who it seemed he was mandated to spend the majority of his time with.

At last he came across her in the library, almost hidden behind a stack of books piled high upon a coffee table. She looked up with an eager smile when she saw him and he smiled back.

“Good evening, Ferdinand,” she said.

“Good evening, Petra. What are you reading?”

She scooted over on the divan to make room for him and as he sat down, she began to pour out all that she was learning. Sometimes her sentences got a little tangled up but with a few questions, Ferdinand could figure out the word she was searching for and resume their discussion. She was extremely knowledgeable on many topics of interest to him and they talked late into the evening, looking through textbooks together and exchanging stories and facts they had learned in school.

The easy comfort that grew between them was enough that Ferdinand’s self-consciousness eased enough to finally do what he had came here to. 

Pulling the carved pony from his pocket, he held it out to her and said, “I am grateful to you for letting me ride Lily and for offering to be my friend. It is silly, perhaps, but I thought you might like this, as a gesture of my gratitude.”

She took the figurine from him and examined it with delight in her eyes. “This is carved with much skill!”

“My gardener Silas made it. He was very good with craftsmanship.”

During their academic discussions, Ferdinand had all but forgotten that Petra was younger than him, for her intelligence and confidence made her seem far older and there was a certain maturity to her bearing that he supposed came with being royalty or perhaps from some of the hardships she had endured that he had only heard whispers of so far. But in that moment, he saw a bit of the childlike joy in her that a thirteen-year-old should have, that he wished he had been allowed to have at that age.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I like this very much.”

Ferdinand smiled and when his father’s voice rose up in the back of his mind to tell him what an unutterably foolish gift this was, he promptly told it to shut up.

Enbarr was overwhelming and vast and in it he was very small, but there was opportunity in that, he realized. A chance to build himself into something larger and stronger than he could have become in his father’s house.


	2. The Mysterious Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventure 2, in which Ferdinand takes a competition with Petra a little too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by the Day 1 prompt Competition, but also has elements of the Day 2 prompt Nobility.  
> All in all, though, it is but a silly story about a fish.

“Have you met a sting ray, Ferdinand?”

He looked at Petra in alarm. “Have you?”

She nodded nonchalantly. “They are very… soft. They are fun to pet, but you must be watching yourself or they will-” She grabbed his arm and pinched it. “-strike!”

Ferdinand yelped and rubbed his arm while Petra laughed. “Sounds quite alarming.”

“Do you think it is a ray?” she said, returning her gaze to the fishing pond where strange and unsettling glimmers were coming from beneath the calmly lapping waters.

“How would it have gotten here?”

“Someone could have brought it,” she replied. “If they stole it from the ocean, we must be rescuing it!”

“Caspar thinks it is a shark.”

Petra shook her head. “A shark would not fit in this pond.”

“What do you think it is?” he asked, glancing over at the dock where Professor Byleth was determinedly casting line after line to try to catch the mysterious creature that everyone had been talking about all week. He wondered if her resolve came simply from a desire to cease all their foolish theorizing and the endless chatter that accompanied it. Byleth had not known peace in her favorite haunt on the docks with all the people lurking around trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that had appeared in the Garreg Mach pond.

“I think it is something with magic.”

“Fish can hold magic?” he asked. He tried not to be skeptical of Petra’s beliefs, but this one did sound rather far-fetched.

“Everything holds magic,” she answered. “It is only that not everything can be using it to kill like people do.”

“Perhaps when the professor catches it, she will cook it into a pie and become even more powerful than she already is,” he said with a laugh.

“Or we could,” Petra suggested. She looked at Ferdinand and he saw the beginning of a wild idea forming in her eyes. “We could become stronger, with the magic of the fish.”

“If we could catch it,” he said.

She smiled. “You do not think I can?”

“Do you think you can?” he fired back.

“Yes.”

Her challenge was obvious and Ferdinand was, as always, woefully bad at letting it go. “Unless I catch it first,” he said. “Fishing is not a typical skill for a noble, but I see not why that should limit me!”

Petra’s smile spread into a grin and she held out her hand. “A duel?”

“A duel,” Ferdinand agreed, shaking it. “May the best fighter win.”

Petra jumped to her feet and brushed the dust from her skirt. “I must be buying bait. I will eat that fish by morning!”

Scrambling up to his feet, Ferdinand ran off too, but it was not to the marketplace. He had a different idea. He knew he could not beat Petra with skill, but perhaps he could with creativity and a little political maneuvering.

  
  


“Ferdinand von Aegir,” Petra nodded formally as he walked up to the dock at three o’clock in the morning. She regarded him with the fierce look of a soldier sizing up an enemy.

“Princess Macneary,” he replied. “How fare your angling endeavors?”

She turned her attention back to the water and did not reply.

“Did the professor finally give up?” he asked.

She nodded. “She will be back at dawn. We must be striking quickly while we can.”

The rational side of Ferdinand’s brain reminded him that he had a weekend seminar in the morning, but he dismissed the thought. He did not sleep nearly as much as he needed to win.

While Petra disentangled another herring from her hook and deposited it into a bucket of water with a sigh, Ferdinand took out the strange glowing bait he had procured from Lindhardt at the price of writing an essay for him, which was exactly the kind of diplomatic compromise Ferdinand disliked but knew he must resign himself to one day when he was Prime Minister. He secured it onto the hook of his fishing line and flicked it into the water as he had seen the others do. 

He had only fished a handful of times, as it was entirely too quiet and sedate a pastime for him to have much proclivity for. But he figured that he understood the fundamentals and could compensate for his lack of experience with strength of will and acuity of mind – his fortes, after all.

Petra eyed his enchanted bait suspiciously and frowned. “Trinkets and cheap tricks will not be helping you.”

“A cheap trick?” he said indignantly. “Perish the thought! I would never resort to tricks. This is a battle tactic.”

She _hmm_ ed dubiously and cast off, her body tensed and alert as she waited.

Patience, Ferdinand told himself as they waited. Patience was a necessary trait for a leader and politician to have, as essential as strength, charisma and prowess. Patience was the foundation of wisdom. It was-

Ferdinand sighed. 

Patience was excruciating and fishing interminable.

“In battle, one’s mind must be even stronger than one’s arm,” Petra said with a bit of a sly smile. “How did Seteth say it? Aha. ‘Mental fortitude.’ Are you having mental fortitude, Ferdinand?”

“Of course I have mental fortitude.”

“Fishing requires much mental fortitude.”

“Then I will master it with ease.”

A trout, a loach and one very pitiful whitefish later, Ferdinand’s mental fortitude was crumbling.

If he could not master such a simple common skill as fishing how could he hope to acquire any other more complicated talents? 

He looked down at the bucket of distinctly non-mysterious fish at his feet and sighed. He was not sure what would embarrass his father more: that he was fishing or that he was doing it _badly_.

“Perhaps I should try the other side of the pond,” he said and picked up his supplies, walking over to the far side of the pond by the greenhouse. He cast his line and tried not to get distracted by his thoughts.

Another small eternity passed and the edges of the sky were beginning to glimmer with the threat of dawn when at last:

A powerful tug!

A glittering shadow beneath the water!

An undignified shriek! Oh saints, it was his own.

He wrangled with the fishing pole that was being violently wrested from his grip. On the other side of the pond, he heard Petra cry out in triumph as well and he looked up for a split-second in alarm to see that she also had a bite and a large fish at that.

Ferdinand could not fathom, after enduring such trials of will, to fail now as victory was so very close at hand.

He struggled furiously with the fish and in his desperation he lost his balance and felt the rod fly from his hands. His first impulse was to dive into the water after the fish and haul it out with his bare hands. His second impulse, which in that instant he somehow deemed to be wiser, was to utilize a ranged attack and strike it dead.

Ferdinand did not have a spear; he did not have a bow. What he did have was a loose grasp on the intricacies of a Thunder spell that he had been studying for the past few weeks. But if Hubert von Vestra could cast spells without even deigning to show up for class most days, then so could he. He had put the work in. He had studied it with diligence. He could do this.

A yell tore from his throat as the lightning spell exploded from his hands, blinding him and sending a jolt of incredible pain shooting through his body.

Then everything went dark.

The first thing Ferdinand saw upon opening his eyes was a splash of raven black amidst a dazzling glow of light. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was in a brightly lit infirmary room that smelled of vulneries and burn poultices, and the black was the color of Hubert von Vestra’s hair, which was curtaining his face as he sat in a chair beside Ferdinand’s bed, head bowed over a textbook.

“Hubert?” Ferdinand croaked in confusion, his throat nearly too hoarse to speak. His waking consciousness brought with it a bone-deep ache in every inch of his body that made him wince.

“Oh,” Hubert murmured in disappointment without looking up from the book. “You have recovered.”

Ferdinand had two very pressing questions: firstly, what happened; secondly why in the goddess’s name Hubert was sitting at his bedside. And yet more urgent still was:

“Did I catch the fish?” 

Hubert finally looked up at him, disbelief hinted in his expression for a moment before it recovered its typical neutrality. “That is what you care about?”

“Did I catch it?”

Hubert scoffed. “What you did was electrocute yourself.” He snapped his book shut and fixed his penetrating gaze on Ferdinand. “Surely you know that water and lightning are not to be mixed. Surely you know that and merely forgot. Because the alternative is that you really truly are an imbecile and that is a thought that bodes very ominously for the future of Adrestria’s Prime Minister office.”

Ferdinand’s spirit withered beneath that gaze and he was not sure how to respond, for indignation would only make him look stupider still. He was spared responding by Byleth cutting in.

“That damned fish is the least of your concerns, von Aegir,” the professor said and Ferdinand glanced over to where she stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.

He blushed in embarrassment. “Indeed. My apologies, professor.”

“Professor Manuela says you will need a day of bedrest. I will let Jeralt know you won’t be able to make it to the lance seminar,” she said. “Rest up. We can’t afford to lose a bright young student like you because of a fish.”

Ferdinand nodded with the requisite humility the moment called for, but he perked up inside at the words _bright student_. 

As Byleth left, Ferdinand expected Hubert to get up and depart as well, but to his astonishment, Hubert simply returned to his studies with neither explanation for his presence nor any obvious intention of leaving.

Ignoring him, Ferdinand took stock of all his limbs to make sure they were not permanently paralyzed by his backfired lightning spell. They all seemed to be working, albeit painfully, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well?” Hubert asked after several minutes.

“Well what?”

“Which was it? Heedlessness or idiocy?”

“I would like to think of it as a valiant resolution to achieve victory at all costs.”

Hubert turned the page and did not reply for another long moment. Then he said, “Apparently your life is a cost Lady Edelgard would rather not pay at the moment, even for an endeavor of such dire importance as fishing. Do try to take care of yourself.”

“So Edelgard has been told of this… incident?”

Hubert looked at him and raised his eyebrows. “She knows everything that happens in this place, as do I. Remember that next time you consider making a fool of yourself.”

Ferdinand bristled at the words, a lifetime of far more vicious lectures making him very loathe to take even milder ones from someone who was his peer and not his father. “Why are you here, Hubert? To chastise or to gloat? Or is it simply for your own amusement, because I believe both of those things are a favorite pastime of yours.”

“I am here to ensure your recovery,” he said with surprising sincerity. “Nothing more. I gain no amusement from either your foolishness or your pain.” He set the book down and stood up, walking over to the counter and returning with a small vial of some kind of potion. “Here, drink this now that you are awake.”

“And what assurances do I have that it is not poisoned?” Ferdinand asked.

A wry smile crooked the corners of Hubert’s lips for a second then vanished, as fleeting as it was oddly endearing. “You have none,” he said, “except my word that it is only for pain relief and nothing more.”

“Well,” Ferdinand mumbled, taking the vial, “I suppose your word counts for something at least.” He uncorked it and drank the potion, expecting an abrasive medicinal bitterness and instead tasting a sweet concoction of herbs rather like a gentle honeyed tea.

Hubert walked to the door but paused and glanced back at Ferdinand. “Of course the ultimate relief from pain is death, is it not?”

For a second, Ferdinand saw that small smile again then Hubert abruptly left and shut the door behind him.

After a long and maddeningly quiet morning, a visitor at last knocked on his infirmary room door and Ferdinand’s heart leapt at the prospect of company. “Come in!”

It was Petra who opened the door and he smiled brightly at her. As she rushed over and sat down next to him, she dug a sheath of papers from her bag and held them out to him. “I took notes at Captain Jeralt’s seminar for you.”

“Thank you!” Ferdinand gasped, looking over the papers covered in Petra’s tiny neat handwriting. 

There were sections written in different penmanship and Petra added, “Dorothea helped me.”

“Dorothea?” he asked. “Why was she there at a lance seminar?”

“She did not say but we were having fun sitting together.”

Ferdinand was sure that Dorothea could not have been aware these notes were for his benefit, for if she was he doubted she would have complied.

“How are you feeling?” Petra asked.

“Better,” he answered. “But Petra, please, for goodness’s sake, you must tell me since no one else will! What of the fish?”

“Professor Byleth was saying that it fetched a high price at the market. She has bought us all new weapons for the next mission.”

“She sold it?” he said in dismay. “After all we went through to catch it?”

“She saved your life! She was deserving of it, to do with as she pleased. I thought you would be in agreement.”

“I am,” he said. “I was just curious to learn of it.”

“It was magical,” Petra said. “I was guessing correctly. A blessed fish, the professor said.”

“Fascinating.”

Petra moved from the chair to sit down cross-legged next to him on the bed. She studied him with a curious and contemplative look for a moment and he could not guess at what she was thinking.

“You have been changing, Ferdinand,” she said at last.

“I certainly hope so. I was only fifteen when we met, after all,” he replied. “You have changed much too.”

She shook her head. “I have been growing older. You have been growing…”

“Growing what?” he said worriedly.

“Frightened.”

The word astonished him. “Me? Frightened? Preposterous. I am nothing if not courageous.”

She continued to gaze at him with a look that was too wise to be lied to. “I have enjoyment of our competitions. You are a friend that brings me much joy, Ferdinand. But you do not compete anymore for joy. You compete because you are afraid to lose. I have not been able to understand what has changed but I have been thinking on it and I have come to the idea that you are frightened.”

“I fail to see how a healthy sense of competition and ambition-”

“I would not have died to catch a fish,” she interrupted and Ferdinand found no argument to her solemn words.

But before embarrassment could settle too hard over him, she reached out and took his hand in hers, squeezing it encouragingly. “I am also very afraid of failing.”

“I cannot imagine you failing at anything,” he said with a soft smile. “You are the most accomplished and talented person I have ever had the honor of knowing.”

She smiled back then glanced away to stare down at the sheets. “I would not die to catch a fish, but I am not… I do not always protect myself as I should. I was going to go to Professor Byleth’s seminar on gambits today but she told me I should rest. She said that I am…” Petra faltered for a moment but Ferdinand did not think it was because she was searching for words, but rather because she was trying to admit something very hard to say aloud. “She said that I study with too much diligence and do not care for myself with enough. She told me to sleep and to eat and to not spend time training or studying today.”

“Maintaining one’s health is important,” Ferdinand agreed, “but what is wrong with working hard? What is so wrong with ambition? It is the duty of a noble to strive as hard as possible. You will rule a country one day, Petra, and I will help run an empire. You and I _should_ be afraid of failure. We will never be allowed the luxury of it.”

She nodded, a little sadly. “That is what I told the professor.”

“And what did she say?”

“That I did not yet have full understanding of what being a leader is if I was thinking that I was not allowed to be human.”

“I can see why she would say that, and it is a kind thought,” Ferdinand said, “very like Professor Byleth. But she is a mercenary. She is not a noble like us. She does not know the… the pressures we have been raised with!”

 _She has Jeralt for a father, not Duke Ludwig von Aegir_ was what Ferdinand wanted to say but the words felt too self-pitying and he did his best to never speak ill of his family around Petra, whose familial sorrows and sufferings were so much deeper than his. 

“I am not saying that she is right,” Petra replied.

“I know. And I do understand your point in speaking of this with me, and I appreciate you saying it in a way that is compassionate and not the chastising that I deserve. I was a fool last night and I did not control my behavior as I should. I apologize sincerely.”

“I do not wish to chastise,” Petra said.

He smiled at her. “That is exactly what makes your words carry weight. And I will take them to heart, I promise.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand again. “Let us review these notes so we can take the exams together this month.”

Ferdinand happily allowed her to change the subject and for the rest of the afternoon they studied together in pleasant productivity.

When Ferdinand was finally released from his imprisonment in the infirmary, his first order of business was a late supper. But as he walked to the dining hall and passed by the fishing pond, he stopped to gaze into its murky depths and search for the magical glimmer of light.

It was gone and the fishing pond was as it was before the appearance of the mysterious fish. 

“Von Aegir!” a sharp voice barked and he glanced up to see Felix Fraldarius descending the steps from the dining hall, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Spar?”

Ferdinand hesitated, remembering Manuela’s strict instructions to not strain his injured body for the next few days. 

“I am sorry but I should likely-”

“Suit yourself,” Felix interrupted. “But don’t expect to beat me in the tournament next weekend if you don’t train.”

Ferdinand opened his mouth to fire back a response but Felix was already striding away towards the training grounds. His pride strained against the constraints of his common sense to chase after Felix and accept his challenge. But he held it back and stayed where he was. And once he got the impulse under control, he continued on his way up to the dining hall to see about rummaging up some tea and supper.

As he wandered into the kitchen, he was met with the sight of Dedue Molinaro kneading dough, an apron tied around his academy uniform.

“Good evening, Dedue,” he said cheerfully. “What are you baking?”

“Fish pies,” Dedue answered with his typical solemn calm. “There will be plenty to spare. You are welcome to have some.”

“That is very kind of you! I must at least make myself useful first before I can justify accepting such a gift. How can I help?” Ferdinand offered.

Dedue glanced at him and said, “Nobles usually need not concern themselves with cooking. Do you know how?”

“I am happy to learn! I can at least slice the vegetables for you and hand you ingredients.”

Dedue smiled faintly and nodded. “If you wish.”

As they set to work together, Ferdinand noticed the cleanly sliced stack of fillets sitting on the cutting board. Perhaps it was his imagination but they seemed rather… iridescent.

“What kind of fish is this, Dedue?”

“A rare creature I procured in the market this morning,” he answered. “Marianne has joined the Blue Lions and His Highness wished to welcome her with a special dinner. I am told that she enjoys fish pies and the fishmonger said this fish is both delicious and good for one’s health.”

Ferdinand picked up the fillet and examined it. He laughed and Dedue gave him a strange look.

“My apologies,” Ferdinand said quickly before Dedue could think he was mocking him. “It is a lovely idea to welcome your new classmate. I am glad to help.”

“Petra!” he whispered, knocking on her door as quietly but insistently as he could.

She opened it a moment later with a sleepy look, her hair unbraided and wildly curly. She yawned and asked, “What is the matter?”

“I have brought you a gift, as thanks for the notes,” he said.

“It is very late, Ferdinand.”

“A midnight snack,” he replied, holding out the plate with the piece of fish pie. 

Petra sniffed it curiously and her eyes went wide.

Ferdinand grinned and pressed the plate into her hands. “Eat up.”


	3. The Bright Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As war breaks out across Fodlan, Petra offers to take Ferdinand's little sister to stay in Brigid to keep her safe and Ferdinand gratefully accepts. Before parting ways, they spend an afternoon at the beach in Enbarr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand Week prompt Childhood.

Although Aegir Manor was naught but twenty miles from the coast, Phoebe had never seen the ocean.

Lady von Aegir was, despite her timid aspect and gentle voice, as incalcitrant as Duke Ludwig in some matters and had insisted that her daughter was too fragile for the sharp ocean air and buffering winds. And no matter how much Phoebe begged to see the ocean and no matter how much Ferdinand interceded on his little sister’s behalf, their mother’s mind was never changed.

“It is…” Phoebe faltered. She was a precocious girl with a vocabulary strengthened by obsessive reading and Ferdinand knew she must be truly overwhelmed by the sight of the shining wind-tossed waves if she was struggling to find the right word.

“Magical,” Petra said, smiling down at her.

Phoebe nodded, unable to tear her mesmerized gaze from the ocean. “May I… may I touch it?” she asked.

“Do as you please. You need not answer to our father or mother anymore,” Ferdinand said.

Phoebe nodded slowly, stunned. She took a step towards the water then hesitated. “What if it is cold?”

“Then we shall warm up with a cup of tea afterwards,” Ferdinand said. “Go on. Stick your feet in.”

“I shall join you if you are wanting,” Petra offered. “I am a strong swimmer and I know the ocean well. You will not come to harm when you are with me.”

Ferdinand’s heart swelled with gratitude at Petra’s offer for Phoebe to come stay in Brigid. With their father vulnerable to his many enemies and their mother so shaken by recent events that she had withdrawn from the world completely, Phoebe was not safe in Aegir. 

She could come to physical harm being kidnapped and used as leverage against their father, or she could suffer emotional damages from the neglect of their mother.

With violence spreading across the whole of Fódlan, there were few safe places left in the world and Brigid, so far removed from the war zones of Faerghus and the Alliance, was the perfect haven.

“You cannot be wading in your shoes!” Petra said, yanking her boots off and rolling up the legs of her pants. Phoebe carefully unlaced her boots and took off her socks, placing them neatly atop a boulder.

She gasped as she took a step barefoot on the beach, but her shock swiftly gave way to joy and she giggled, digging her toes into the sand happily. 

“Come on!” Petra urged, taking off at a run towards the waves. They were gentle this time of year, peacefully lapping at the shore, but Phoebe still stopped a few feet shy of their reach and stared at them in consternation. 

She watched Petra with wide eyes as she merrily dashed into the waves and kicked at the surf with a laugh. Although she had taken instantly to Petra when Ferdinand brought her to Enbarr in preparation for her trip to Brigid, she was still unused to strangers and someone as energetic as Petra would take getting used to. Her only company for most of her eleven years on earth had been her governess, her mother, her cat and, when his studies allowed him, Ferdinand.

Kneeling down, Ferdinand unlaced his riding boots and tugged them off, took off his military jacket and gloves, and set aside his sword sheath. He walked over to Phoebe and held out his hand. She looked at him nervously and he gave her a bright smile.

“Shall we?” he said with a courtly bow as if he were asking her to dance.

Phoebe laughed and took his hand, following him as he walked along the shifting sand and into the water. She squeaked and jumped as the first wave hit her feet and clutched Ferdinand’s hand fiercely.

“Now is the hour of bravery!” Petra shouted, raising her fist like it was a war cry. She bounded over to Phoebe and said, “Come be fearless with me!”

Her courage rising, Phoebe let go of Ferdinand’s hand and grabbed onto Petra’s, allowing her to tug her out deeper until she was knee-deep in the water. As a wave rolled in, Petra cried, “Are you ready?”

Phoebe replied something but her excited voice was still too soft to be heard over the wind and ocean. Ferdinand laughed and watched as Petra grabbed Phoebe and lifted her up to jump over the wave a second before it hit the two of them. 

Splashing over to them, he scooped Phoebe up off her feet before the next wave hit and swung her around in a circle, depositing her back into the water as she shouted gleefully at him to be careful.

After a quarter of an hour, Phoebe was like a new person, eagerly splashing about, fishing shells out of the water, exclaiming over every single thing to Ferdinand who made sure to take great interest in each of her tiny discoveries. 

Children, he was told, were resilient. 

It was Dorothea who had told him that and he had agreed with her at the time, figuring she was more of an expert than him, for truth be told Ferdinand was not sure he even had a childhood. He certainly could not remember much more than an endless regime of education, training and lectures. 

There were some blessed patches of freedom when he would go riding through the countryside, and there were a few times he remembered escaping the watchful army of governesses, tutors, bodyguards and butlers to play with Phoebe. But mostly when he reflected upon his childhood, Ferdinand could only remember two striking feelings: being very small and overwhelmed, and very full of yearning for freedom.

He wondered if Phoebe ever felt the same, or if his mother’s coddling and overprotectiveness had had such an effect on her that she would not even consider freedom a possibility nor know what it was she was missing by being shut up in Aegir Manor.

What he was certain about was that Phoebe’s ‘fragility’ had never been of the emotional kind. She was not like their mother, nor was she like his father. She was her own unique person so very different from any other Aegir Ferdinand had met or heard of. 

If they were to be the only two Aegir’s left with a house that held no power and a name that demanded no respect, it was up to them to rebuild their family’s reputation. Ferdinand’s path was to do so on the battlefield, standing with their emperor as she forged a new world. Phoebe’s was to grow and flourish in that new world.

Maybe then it would mean something to be an Aegir again. Something good.

“Eeeaaagh! Something touched my foot!” Phoebe shrieked, leaping up into Ferdinand’s arms and clinging to him with her arms around his neck. 

“It is just a seaweed,” Petra said, unwrapping the strand of kelp from Phoebe’s ankle as Ferdinand held her.

“What is that?” Phoebe asked curiously, releasing her death grip on Ferdinand and allowing him to set her back down in the water. Taking the seaweed from Petra, she examined its slimy leaves and pods. 

“It is what grows in the ocean. It is a delicious ingredient in many foods,” Ferdinand answered.

Phoebe looked up at him in disbelief. “You can eat it?”

“I will make you my seaweed soup when we are aboard the ship,” Petra said. “You will love it.”

Phoebe nodded. “Alright.”

“I think it is time to dry off now, though. Your ship will be ready to depart soon and we must have that tea I promised you,” Ferdinand said. His heart ached suddenly at the thought of leaving her. 

But his battalion was scheduled to travel to the Bridge of Myrddin tomorrow to oversee its reinforcements and take up their defensive position there. There was no lingering in Enbarr, for either him or Phoebe. Petra would see her safely home to Brigid and Ferdinand would send her letters and that would have to do until the war was over.

With the astonishing progress of their conquest over the past year, Ferdinand was sure that would be soon.

Until then he would have to be content with the knowledge that his little sister was being granted a chance at a childhood, and at the one thing neither he nor Petra were ever afforded: freedom.

“Do you like ginger tea?” Petra asked Phoebe, leading her back to their picnic blanket on the sand.

“I have never had it,” she replied. “But if you like it, I am sure I will!”

Petra glanced at Ferdinand and smiled and he smiled back, mouthing the words  _ ‘thank you’  _ to which Petra nodded in acknowledgement.

“I will keep her safe,” she said quietly to him as Phoebe busied herself drying her feet and putting her shoes back on.

“I know,” Ferdinand replied. “You are the only person I would entrust with something so dear to me.”


	4. The Falling Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time Petra out-flew a falling star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a hundred years late for Ferdinand Week now, but this story was to be tied to the prompt Relationships.

Searching for the ones he loved after a battle was always the most frightening part of war.

Ferdinand strode through the halls of Arianrhod urgently, checking off every person he saw with relief. Caspar. _Safe_ . Sylvain. _Wounded but safe_ . Bernadetta. _Safe_ . Mercedes. _Safe but crying._ He would need to find Mercedes later after he did his rounds to see if she needed someone to talk to and to try to comfort her. He could not imagine how heartbreaking it must be to her as their conquest pushed further and further into Faerghus.

Dorothea. _Safe_ . Byleth and Edelgard. _Safe_ . Lysithea. _Safe_. Hubert.

“Hubert!” he said, his steps quickening as he hurried to where Hubert sat on an overturned crate, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. “Are you injured?”

Hubert looked up at him with a surprisingly vulnerable look in his eyes, one that Ferdinand had begun to see from him more often as of late as their friendship grew, but one that was still rare, for even around him his composure usually still held strong.

“I am unharmed,” Hubert replied numbly. 

Ferdinand sat down next to him and, on an impulse, reached out and touched Hubert’s shoulder. When Hubert did not stiffen, he rested his hand on it in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

“What is the matter then?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Hubert replied. “I am just… weary. That is all.”

“Then allow me to help you. What matters do you have to see to today in the wake of the battle? How can I be of assistance?”

Hubert smiled faintly. “Of course you still have energy to spare. The indefatigable Ferdinand von Aegir.”

Ferdinand grinned at the compliment. “My energy is at your disposal, General von Vestra.”

“Ferdinand!” a voice cried and he whirled around to see Petra rocketing towards him.

He caught her as she reached him and hugged her tightly. “I saw the pegasus corps targeting the beasts! I was immensely worried about you.”

Petra laughed. “You do not have faith in me?”

“I have absolute faith in you,” he replied. “But I am a worrier by nature. Forgive me.”

“I was the one worrying about you,” she said, pulling out of his arms and punching his shoulder lightly. 

“As touching as your reunion is, it is also very loud,” Hubert cut in. “Perhaps you would have mercy upon my headache and take your exuberant friendship elsewhere?”

“What is troubling your head?” Petra asked, walking over to Hubert and touching his forehead. “Are you feverish? You feel feverish.”

“You have a fever?” Ferdinand said in alarm. “Hubert, why did you not say so? Let me fetch one of the healers.”

“Do not trouble the healers!” he said, swatting away Petra’s hand. “There are people with actual problems who require their attention.”

“A potion then,” Ferdinand said. “Stay right here. Do not move a muscle. I shall be back at once.”

Hubert opened his mouth to protest but closed it in resignation as Petra sat down next to him and told Ferdinand, “I will keep guard on him and make sure he is resting.”

Muttering something Ferdinand could not hear, Hubert hung his head back in his hands then sighed.

Ferdinand nodded gratefully at Petra before turning and dashing away to find apothecary supplies. 

As he searched through the rooms and halls of the castle plaza, he felt an increasing sense of dread pricking at his skin and shadowing his thoughts. He could not place what it was and chided himself at letting it distract him from his mission. The battle was over after all. It had been a hard and grieving one but it was over and they were safe. The time for dread was earlier, not now. By now it should be laid to rest in order to enjoy the brief moments of peace after a victory.

But he could not shake the feeling and kept stopping from time to time to glance at the sky, his mind struggling to place what it was exactly that felt off about the shift of light and shadows, the heaviness of the air.

At last he came upon a makeshift infirmary tent and within it found a stack of potions, one of which was marked for fever relief. Tucking it into his pocket, he made his way back towards where he had left Hubert and Petra, but before he could make it halfway there a cacophony of screams, crashes and shouts rose up and stopped him dead in his tracks.

The growing dread hit its peak and sent a spike of primal terror straight through his heart. He glanced up at the sky, feeling the light grow brighter and more assailing by the second and the sense of unnatural danger battering his instincts.

“Evacuate everyone from the castle! Hurry!” Byleth yelled and Ferdinand jerked out of his shocked state to see her and Edelgard working to clear the area.

“Where is Hubert?” Edelgard shouted when she caught sight of Ferdinand.

“In one of the guard houses! I will go get him!” Ferdinand said and Edelgard nodded an urgent _thank you_ at him.

As the citizens and soldiers made haste to evacuate, Ferdinand ran through the halls, weaving through the crowds and stopping every few moments to help someone to their feet or tell them where the closest escape route was. His priority was Hubert and Petra, but he could not pass by others needing aid. 

When at last he came to the room where he had left them, they were nowhere to be found.

“Did you see where General von Vestra went?” Ferdinand asked a soldier.

The woman pointed towards the stairs leading up to a parapet of the guard tower and Ferdinand panicked. Why on earth would Hubert not flee?

“Go! Retreat from the citadel!” Ferdinand urged the soldier then ran to the stairs, bolting up them two at a time.

“WAIT! Come back!” Petra was shouting when Ferdinand reached the top of the stairs. She was standing on the railing of the parapet waving frantically at the disappearing silhouette of a pegasus.

“Petra! Where is Hubert?”

She pointed at the pegasus. “Flying! They’re going to die!”

“Flying?” he said incredulously. 

“Dorothea came on her pegasus to warn us to evacuate but Hubert asked her to fly him towards the star instead of away! And she went! I could not stop them!”

Ferdinand shaded his eyes from the blinding light and tried to see where Hubert and Dorothea were flying to, but their shadow was already drowned out by the supernova taking over the sky.

“Where is your pegasus?” he asked. “We must go after them!”

Grabbing his arm and pulling him after her, Petra fled back down the stairs and towards the courtyard. To Ferdinand’s relief, he saw that the citadel was mostly empty, its evacuation happening with blessed alacrity and urgency.

When they burst out from the guard tower and into the open, Petra whistled for her pegasus and Ferdinand kept an eye nervously on the pillar of light bearing down towards them. It must be magic of some kind, or perhaps the wrath of the goddess. Either theory seemed too far-fetched to be believable but he could not doubt the evidence of his own eyes.

After an eternal moment, Myrmidon came swooping down to the ground, his hooves clattering on the cobblestones as he landed. Petra leapt up onto his back and Ferdinand scrambled up behind her.

“Hold on!” Petra cried and flicked Myr’s reins. He lifted his great white wings, stained here and there with splatters of blood from the battle, and took off, hurtling through the air with the beautiful power and ferocity of a warhorse.

“Did Hubert say what he meant to do?” Ferdinand shouted over the rushing wind.

“No!”

“And yet Dorothea agreed to take him?”

Petra cursed and answered, “She trusts him! But he will get her killed!”

Ferdinand wanted to insist that Hubert would never do that, but now was not the time for arguments. Clinging to Petra for dear life, he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. He had ridden a wyvern a few times but he had never had enough training in flying to get used to the instinctual stomach-wrenching, heart-plummeting terror of it. And no amount of training would ever have prepared him to fly straight into the searing light and heat of a falling star.

Fleet and fearless, Myr hurtled through the air until they caught sight of Dorothea’s pegasus Allegro.

“HUBERT!” Ferdinand yelled and Petra urged Myr to fly even faster.

Ferdinand now saw that the falling star was closer in form to a monstrous spear. He was relieved to see Allegro turn away from the direction of the spear and skirt around its inferno, seeking to fly above it. Myr raced after but the heat was becoming unbearable and even stalwart as he was, Myr was beginning to flag and struggle.

The spear was wreathed in violent fire and as they strayed just a bit too close, one of the flames caught the tip of Myr’s wing. He whinnied shrilly and hurtled off balance, nearly throwing Ferdinand from the saddle. A scream of terror tore from his throat and he held on with every shred of balance and strength he had.

He thought he heard another scream, higher-pitched. Dorothea? A split-second later a warp spell jolted through them and Myr rematerialized outside of the radius of the flames. The spell disoriented him but he had been raised and trained alongside the dark fliers and he caught his bearings swiftly, leveling out and swooping away from the spear and towards where Allegro had stopped amidst the whipping wisps of clouds above the inferno.

“Dorothea!” Petra shouted.

“Petra! What are you doing?” Dorothea cried.

“What are YOU doing?” she answered furiously.

“QUIET!” Hubert thundered.

As they drew nearer and Ferdinand’s head stopped reeling enough that he could see clearly, he realized that Hubert was tracing spell runes in the air while barking instructions at Dorothea who frantically scribbled into a notebook as Allegro hovered steadily in place.

Ferdinand thought at first Hubert must be trying to stop the descent of the spear, impossible as that would be. Then he recognized the rune as a simple compass spell. What on earth was Hubert using navigational magic for that was worth dying over?

“Hold Myr steady,” Ferdinand gasped to Petra and shut his eyes for a moment, concentrating all his energy on a basic healing spell. He had mastered it over the course of the war, although he had never had the talent of faith magic to move on to more complicated spells. Even with his familiarity of it, casting it while lightheaded, panicked and hovering a thousand feet above the ground proved to be a monumental challenge.

When at last his energy ignited with the rune and a glow of magic leapt to life in his hands, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Clinging to the saddle with one hand, he leaned out as far as he could and stretched his hand out towards Myr’s burn. The healing spell flowed out from his palm and the tendril of light wrapped around the pegasus’s wing and slowly repaired the damage.

Right before he finished, his concentration faltered and he made the mistake of looking down. The pillar of light was bearing down on Arianrhod and horror flooded Ferdinand’s mind as he realized its radius was enough to take out the entire citadel.

He shouted something at Hubert but he hardly knew what, for his mind was blank with shock and his words were lost in the cataclysmic roar of the impact.

Light swept outwards, enveloping the castle for a moment, then a crack like a thousand thunderstorms split the air and rubble exploded upwards into the sky.

Petra screamed and kicked Myr forward. “Go!” she yelled at Dorothea and Hubert.

“One moment more!” Hubert shouted, still manipulating his spells and examining the landscape below them spread out as far as the eye could see. He rattled off more information at Dorothea who wrote it down then shoved the notebook into her coat pocket and grabbed Allegro’s reins again, snapping them urgently.

The pegasus leapt into action, a streak of shadow across the blinding white sky, and flew away from the citadel. Myr followed and they raced against the cloud of smoke and dust rising up towards them, bearing shards of rubble and earth, hewn so violently from the ground that they now blasted with terrifying speed straight up at the clouds.

Before they could escape its radius, the rubble reached them and if Ferdinand had been doubtful of their survival in this mad chase earlier he was now all but certain death was inevitable.

But Petra guided Myr deftly through the chaos, weaving around projectiles and plowing through clouds of ash as they raced after Allegro. Dorothea was less adept a rider but she had Hubert protecting her and Ferdinand watched in awe as Allegro vanished and reappeared in the blink of an eye over and over, never missing a beat amidst the chaos of small swift warps that kept her a hair's breadth from being crushed by the debris.

When at last they shot past the edge of the storm and emerged into the clearing air, they slowed their flight and their exhausted pegasi fluttered down towards the ground. Ferdinand’s stomach lurched as they made their descent and, free of the distracting terror of surviving the flight, he turned his gaze on the devastation below them.

The inner citadel of Arianrhod was a crater in the ground, its outer circles and walls intact still but shrouded in smoke and battered by debris.

He saw a flood of people on the road outside it, having evacuated quickly enough to survive, but he knew even from a glance that it was likely only half of the citadel’s occupants. The thought of how many lay dead within its walls overwhelmed him with grief and confusion.

Even more disturbing than _how_ this had happened was the question of _who_ would do such a thing. He had an idea, of course, but even that made no sense. The Agarthans were on their side, were they not? So surely it could not be… This could not-

“Dorothea!” Petra shouted as Myr touched down on the ground. She leapt from the saddle and staggered over to where she and Hubert were dismounting from Allegro.

Dorothea and Hubert tried to speak at once but Petra interrupted them by tackling Dorothea in a hug and clinging to her like her life depended on it. Tears were streaming down Dorothea’s face as she hugged her back and sobbed broken sentences about _I didn’t mean to frighten you_ and _why did you come after us?_ and _we had to!_ and _what the fuck happened?_ and _thank the goddess you’re alive!_

Meanwhile Ferdinand walked numbly over to Hubert who had Dorothea’s notebook in his hands and was studying it obsessively, making notes of his own and sketching out a map or diagram of some kind. He did not even look up as Ferdinand approached and Ferdinand’s relief at seeing him alive twisted into anger.

“You could have killed Dorothea!” he hissed as he came to stand a foot in front of Hubert. “What were you thinking?”

“This is important,” he replied, still not looking up. “Hush.”

All Ferdinand’s indignant words stuck in his throat and a shock-induced, adrenaline-fueled impulse overcame him instead. Stumbling forward, he grabbed Hubert’s face in his hands and kissed him.

For a second, Hubert froze in shock. Then he dropped the notebook and pen and seized hold of Ferdinand, one hand gripping the back of his neck and the other tangling in his hair. He kissed him back with a yearning intensity that overwhelmed Ferdinand and he did not stop until they were both breathless.

As they broke apart, Ferdinand stared up at Hubert with wide eyes and Hubert stared back with equal astonishment. He cleared his throat and bent down to pick up the notebook and pen.

“I used the trajectory of the javelin to triangulate their location,” Hubert said, urgent and business-like again as if an extraordinary thing had not just happened between him and Ferdinand.

“You did what?” Ferdinand asked, mind still reeling from more emotions than he could name. He felt like his chest might burst from containing the competing forces of fear, relief, horror and love pounding in his heart.

“I know where they hide,” Hubert said. “Dorothea and I. We found them.”

Even though they were alone on the windswept plain, Ferdinand still lowered his voice as he gasped, “The Agarthan fortress?”

Hubert nodded solemnly.

Ferdinand glanced over at Dorothea and Petra whose reunion had calmed as well and who were standing hand-in-hand and talking in hushed and worried tones. Petra looked over and caught his eye then her gaze turned to Hubert and her expression hardened.

“You could have killed her,” she said, stepping towards him, her hand straying to the hilt of her sword.

“Petra, I agreed to help him,” Dorothea cut in, reaching out to put her hand on Petra’s arm.

“I could not have done it without her,” Hubert replied, leveling his calm and impenetrable stare at Petra. “We took a risk for the sake of victory. You are the one who flew into the face of death for no reason than sentimental and foolish concern for our wellbeing.”

“Hubie, come on!” Dorothea pleaded. “Don’t be an ass.”

Hubert stiffened and looked away from Petra. “The four of us are alive. Let us leave it at that and turn our attention to those who have not been so fortunate. We must return to Arianrhod once the dust settles and bury what is left of their bodies. And I must gather any other information on these Agarthan weapons that I can unearth. Our survival both during and after this war depends upon it.” He turned on his heel and walked back towards Allegro. “But first I must find Her Highness. Dorothea?”

Dorothea hugged Petra one last time then pulled away despite Petra’s murmured pleas for her to wait.

“We have to find Edie,” Dorothea said. “Once you heal Myr’s wing, follow us.”

Tears glistened in Petra’s eyes but she nodded, composure returning to her manner. “Be safe,” she whispered.

Dorothea smiled at her and raised her hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to Petra’s fingers. Then she let go and climbed up onto Allegro’s back, nudging the pegasus forward. As they leapt back into the air, flying off towards the road where the refugees from Arianrhod awaited, Petra turned to Ferdinand and opened her mouth to speak. But she struggled for the words and after a moment she just ran forward into his arms and hugged him.

“I should have trusted her to be safe,” she said, hiding her face against his shoulder. “I endangered you and Myr because I was afraid.”

“I would have stolen a wyvern and gone after them on my own if you had not taken me,” Ferdinand reassured her. “And I most certainly would not have survived that. We owe our lives to your incredible flying.”

As Petra cried, Ferdinand stroked her hair and added, “We have kept each other safe through many battles. You protected me today just as Dorothea and Hubert protected each other. We need never be too afraid when we have such friends beside us.”

She let go of him and stepped back, wiping the tears from her eyes and nodding resolutely. “I know. My pain is not merely for the one I love. So many have died today. And why? It makes no sense. We were the victors!”

“Hubert and Dorothea will come to the bottom of this mystery, for that is their forte. And you and I will lead the army upon the Agarthan fortress when the time comes, for that is ours.”

“We shall,” she said darkly. “We will make them pay for the souls they have taken today.” She turned back to her pegasus and said, “Come help me heal Myrmidon.”

They worked together in silence for several minutes, attention focused on tending to the creature who had endured such perils for the sake of loyalty today. When they were finished, they set off on foot to rejoin the others, Myr walking beside them to rest his wings.

“You and I have always spoken of many things in our hearts and minds to each other,” Petra said after a while. “But we have never spoken of love. Not honestly.”

“I do not think I realized I was in love until the moment I thought for sure I would lose him,” Ferdinand replied quietly. He touched his lips unconsciously, almost wondering if he had imagined the whole thing.

“I have loved her for many years,” Petra admitted.

Ferdinand reached out and took her hand, squeezing it encouragingly. “She obviously feels deeply for you in return.”

“As does Hubert.”

“I am not so sure. I think perhaps shock had merely addled his brain.”

“He does. I am certain of it.”

“These are very dangerous times to love someone. We have a duty to fulfill to our countries, to this fight we must finish.”

Petra nodded, staring grimly down at the muddy, ash-strewn ground. “There will be time for loving afterwards, though. That is my hope.”

“As is mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do you also share a deep and abiding love for Ferdinand von Aegir? Come rave about it on Twitter with me @lalexanderwrite


End file.
